Until The End
by sistersgrimmlover
Summary: He would be there, anywhere he wished him to follow. Even if his throne crumbled, even if his brilliant crown rusted, even if the bodies piled up endlessly at his feet, he would stay beside him. Until the very end.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Until The End

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Summary**: He would be there, anywhere he wished him to follow. Even if his throne crumbled, even if his brilliant crown rusted, even if the bodies piled up endlessly. He would be there. Until the very end.

**Pairing**: HP/TMR

**Warnings**: Eventual slash, blood, gore

**(Chapter) Rating**: T

**Words:** 883

Until The End

**Prologue**

Fire.

Inferno.

Blaze.

Shattering glass.

_**SCREAMS**._

It's too much for him. Too much and too soon, especially when he was dragged away from the scene by those whom had started. He had been made to watch his house crash down around him and he had been made to watch his life _shatter_. Shatter like the frosted glass windows that had lined the great manor that he had once called home but had now been reduced to nothing but charred wood and powdered glass.

And then, he had been locked away in darkness with his last vision being of a burning house and his mother's shadow, flames engulfing her. His eyes narrowed on the witches and wizards donning their red robes and their orange masks. They stared at him with big grins and he only felt _hatred_. Hatred flooded through his veins and made him less than human.

They touched him and tortured him and he still felt the blistering pain as they branded him, as if he were cattle and nothing more. And this only caused his hatred and his urge to revenge to increase.

So, really it shouldn't have come to a surprise when he unwittingly summoned that creature of darkness and absolute and unadulterated hatred.

He had only been lying there before, surrounded by utter darkness and then he had felt something fall upon his face. It was light and it tickled his pale, ice cold skin and he blew it away and it floated off. He vaguely recognized it for it was…a feather. He was so tired…he couldn't even bring himself to care anymore. He cared about little else except his revenge…something that he had never thought he'd be able to receive.

Something harsh and _bright _entered his view and his eyes narrowed as they were trained upon the beacon of light that came to him, like a saviour in the bitter, lonely darkness. He felt something else fall on his face and he raised an eyebrow at the soft, white feathers. More and more began to fall until they almost completely obscured his view of something that rested in the light.

He stared in confusion at the long body and once again, his mind made the connection. It was a snake. It had a long and powerful body and looked as thick as a grown man's thigh. It should have been frightening but in his short time hidden from view, he had seen scarier things.

"I've summoned you then…" he rasped and there was a long hiss that emerged from the light at the end of the long tunnel to hell.

"Yes, young one. Not many wish for me to appear. How did you know of me?"

The voice was low and sounded as slick and slimy as a snake. It should have been disturbing for him to imagine the voice coming from an animal.

It wasn't.

"Stories. I didn't mean to summon you. And yet…you're here. I believe I know what that means. There are always hidden truths in fairytales."

There was a hissy chuckle of amusement that spoke of **DARKNESS**, _RAGE, _and _HATRED_.

"Think carefully, still. Should you reject the Faith, even this once, you will never see the gates of Heaven and all that await you there."

The voice sounded less like a hiss now and more like the voice of a grown man. The deep, baritone voice sent shivers down his spine. Fear rose the hairs on the back of his neck but he ignored that deep fear that had been cultivating in him since he was but a child. Instead of screaming in fright for his damned, _dead _mother, he let out a frigid laugh, brushing away the fear as if it were nothing but an insignificant insect.

"Do you think I, a practiser of witchcraft and that one who summoned you here, am among the faithful? The gates of Heaven were closed t me from the moment I was born."

He was careful to keep his voice without inflection or tone. He droned and it was easier this way. It was easier to mask his scepticism and fear this way. So much easier to keep in his pain and his _screams_…

The snake let out another low chuckle. It was that same, disconcerting baritone voice and now, the snake seemed to be amused, of all things. He couldn't quite understand how this…_thing _found his predicament amusing, but he supposed that the problems of mortals mattered not to it.

"I shall ask anyway. Do you wish to enter a contract with me?"

His green eyes flashed.

"I do."

The white feathers that had been swirling around him like a blizzard seemed to rot from the inside out and quickly turned different revolting shades of brown and a single inky black feather floated down from the swirling mass and landed upon his right eye and seemed to _stick _there.

He screamed soundlessly, raw and white-hot pain spreading from around his eye and throughout his entire body. His back arched as he stared at the snake that was slowly uncoiling and rising into what appeared to be an unnatural standing position. He stared, unable to make a single sound as the snake morphed into a humanoid shape.

The last thing he saw were glowing red eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title:** Until The End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**Summary:** He would be there, anywhere he wished him to follow. Even if his throne crumbled, even if his brilliant crown rusted, even if the bodies piled up endlessly. He would be there. Until the very end.

**Pairing:** HP/TMR

**Warnings:** Eventual slash, blood, gore

**(Chapter) Rating:** T

**Words**: 5827

Until The End

**Chapter 1**

"He's escaped. A dangerous arsonist whom killed fifteen witches and wizards has escaped."

The Minister for Magic looked up, sharply and his eyes were wide as he stared at Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour. He hoped they were joking…they _must _be joking. There was no possible way that he could have escaped from his top-security cell on the Island of Azkaban Prison. Azkaban was impenetrable and it was impossible to escape the maze, let alone the guards that never slept.

Yet, his top Auror were grim-faced and it looked like they had not slept in years. They would not lie about something so incredibly serious. The escape of Sirius Black was something to be feared and taken care of almost immediately. Minister Fudge's head fell into his hands and he let out a long groan, wishing that he could call Madam Umbridge up to deal with this, though he knew he couldn't.

"He's escaped," Fudge repeated, weakly into his hands before he looked up, looking as if he had aged in the past ten seconds.

"Last night. The dementors swung by this morning and he was gone. Disappeared from his cell as if he had never been there," Amelia said, softly and Fudge slumped in his seat, a long sigh escaping past his cracked, dry lips.

Fudge had visited Azkaban only a few weeks prior and he had passed by Black's cell. The man had been sitting in the same spot as he had when he had first been shipped to the prison, six years previous. He had been relatively sane for someone whom had been there for over two years and he had calmly asked for Fudge's newspaper as he passed. The Minister had been quite finished with it, having already known the _important _news, and so he had graciously given it to the man.

And now that same man was on the loose.

"What are we going to do about it? I suppose you have Aurors apprehending him now at this very minute?" Fudge asked and he knew that he sounded childishly hopeful but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Scrimgeour sighed.

"We've only just received the news. Madam Bones summoned me and alerted me after the dementors had spoken to her. We have not alerted _anyone _about it. What is it that you'd like us to do?" Scrimgeour asked and Fudge's eyes narrowed.

If this had been before the Great Fire, he knew exactly what he would have done, just as his predecessors had done. There was a reason why the Potter family had been such a great loss besides the tragic end of a pure and worthy line of wizards. Every Potter was born with a rare skill that had not been seen for many, many generations of other lines. Without exception, a Potter was born with the gift of tracking.

It was more vague in some and clearer in others but they had been skilled with tracking. When an exceptionally violent criminal came to light, the Aurors were pushed aside for someone on an entirely different level. Potters were trained for this from birth and it was a damn shame that he no longer had any at his expense. James Potter had been his last and had helped track down certain people and certain _things_ that were best not to be named.

"I want a Hit-Wizard Squad on his trail. Immediately. Do this before we alert the press. I will get the public relations team on this," Fudge said, softly and Amelia and Scrimgeour nodded though they seemed to have their doubts.

The Minister looked back down at the papers that he had stacked on his desk, awaiting his signature and he sighed, pushing them aside. He stood, his palms pressed hard into the wooden desk before him. His predecessors had sat here, in this same chair and he wondered, briefly, if they had ever been in this particular situation. He doubted that they ever had.

When there was someone dangerous, they had always had a Potter to handle it for them.

And he…he had no one.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Madam?"

Amelia looked sideways at Scrimgeour. The man straightened, his back erect and he looked just as a soldier should. Minister Fudge could take some comfort in how prepared the Head of the Auror Office looked, but not enough. It would never be enough.

"I was told…before he left…he was whispering 'He's at Hogwarts'. The Potter scion would have been in his third year. If he still thinks that he's alive…there's…" Amelia trailed off and she looked down, giving an exhausted sigh that sounded as if it had rested in her chest for years.

"It means that there's a possibility that the Potter scion is alive and well," Scrimgeour finished and Fudge looked up, hope bright in his eyes and he leaned forward over his desk before he remembered that he couldn't rely on someone he wasn't sure existed.

"No matter. Send out a Hit-Wizard Squad anyway. Dismissed."

Scrimgeour nodded and turned to Amelia. She nodded at the Minister for turning around and walking towards the door, militaristically, as always. They approached the heavy wooden door when suddenly there was a slow knock. Fudge looked up with a frown and he shook his head.

"I'm not scheduled for anymore meetings."

Amelia and Scrimgeour slowly pulled their wands from the hidden holsters up their sleeves and Amelia gave Scrimgeour a meaningful look. The lion-like man nodded and quickly Disillusioned himself and stood before the Minister as a human shield. Amelia placed her hand on the door knob and turned it before swinging the door open and stabbing her wand at what was _supposed _to be an assailant's chest.

Her wand landed in between someone's eyebrows.

Amelia looked down, eyes wide and she stared at the young man whom stood before her, an adult expression upon his face. He looked unamused and undeterred by the fact that she held his wand between two perfect inky black eyebrows. The Head of the DMLE took a step back and stared in shock at the single vibrant verdant eye that rolled up at her to stare her in the face.

He was dressed in expensive clothing that looked like an odd mix between Muggle and wizarding clothing. Amelia knew that the wizards were behind in terms of fashion trends as compared to the Muggle world. But, this boy seemed to find a peculiar balance between the two.

He wore navy blue shorts with black cuffs at the knee and white lining. Over a high-neck button down black shirt, he wore a dark blue frock coat with black cuffs, secured by a double-breasted black middle lined with two columns of golden buttons. The back of the boy's frock coat came out into a long black and blue striped trail that fell to his feet. His pale legs were covered in long black socks and strangely enough, it appeared as if it were wearing a woman's heeled dark blue boots.

But, the oddest thing about him was the black eye patch he wore over his right eye.

"If you would kindly remove your wand from near me," the boy said, softly.

Amelia didn't move.

"How did you get past our security measures?" she asked, her voice steely.

She couldn't assume automatically that this boy was simply a boy. She had been trained to think about everything, including the possibility of Polyjuice Potion and glamours. This could very well be a grown man come to assassinate the Ministry, though he was wearing very odd clothing in his attempt to do so.

"That isn't as important as capturing Sirius Black, is it?"

The boy's voice was soft and quiet. Amelia's eyes widened at his knowledge. She looked over her shoulder and at the Minister. He looked shocked and almost afraid.

"How did you hear about that?" Minister Fudge barked.

The boy took a step forward and Amelia frowned at the swirling shadows that trailed after his train. He gently pushed Amelia's wand away and walked towards the Minister. He stopped just in front of Scrimgeour and he tilted his head as he stared up at the man, as if he could see the Disillusioned Auror.

"Tom."

The shadows that trailed the young boy swirled and Amelia almost dropped her wand when she saw them twist and convulse before parting and revealing a tall man. He was pale with layered black hair that fell to the nape of his neck in tendrils. His eyes were the most intense crimson and he donned very tight trousers that were most unlike wizard clothing, a button down white shirt, a straight black tie and an over robe. He looked down at the boy.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Make all things visible."

"Of course."

The man, Tom, lifted a gloved hand and flicked his wrist. A wand slid down his sleeve and he swiped it down, viciously. Amelia gasped at how easily the man broke the Disillusionment Charm. Scrimgeour looked just as shocked as she felt. The young boy gave the man a blank look.

"Rufus Scrimgeour. If you would move out of the way."

Scrimgeour looked so shocked that he actually moved out of the way. The boy sat down and looked straight at the Minister. The Minister stood, frozen and Amelia wondered if she should summon more Aurors to take care of this threat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

It was the crimson-eyed Tom that had spoken. She looked at him and he gave her a charming smile that sent her heart aflutter. She would have flushed if she weren't a battle-hardened ex-Auror and the Head of the DMLE. There was something about this man that was utterly attractive and yet, put her on complete edge. It was a disconcerting difference.

"Do what?" Amelia bluffed.

Tom smirked. "Call more Aurors. Your mind is pathetically unpredicted, Madam."

Amelia's eyes widened. She hadn't even felt her Occlumency shields break or even _move_. They had been perfectly in place yet this wizard had so easily read her. There was something very dangerous about him and this boy that he seemed to serve.

"What are you here for?" the Minister stammered to the taller man.

"It is not I that wished to come here, but my Lord," Tom said, nodding to the green-eyed boy and the Minister's eyes widened as he turned his gaze onto the slighter male.

The one-eyed boy leaned forward, tapping long pale fingers upon the gleaming wood of the desk that was periodically polished every week.

"What can I do for you?" the Minister asked, softly and the green-eyed boy smiled.

"It's more of…what I can do for _you_."

The Minister frowned. "What?"

"It has come to my attention that for many generations, my family has served the Ministers for Magic and their Ministry with a specific skill that I have inherited. And I have come to do as my family has been tasked to do so. I have come to _track_ Sirius Black," the boy said, calmly and Fudge's eyes widened at the implication of the boy's words and he learned forward in anticipation.

"Then you…you are…a _Potter_."

Amelia swallowed and slowly lowered his wand. Scrimgeour hesitantly did the same and Fudge looked almost delighted by this discovery though also worried.

"The last Potter," the boy corrected.

"Then you are the Lord Harry James Potter," Amelia assumed and the boy, the Lord Potter, turned a terrifying smile onto her that looked like it had no place belonging on someone's face.

"The very same, Madam."

Scrimgeour's yellowish eyes narrowed in suspicion underneath bushy, dark eyebrows. He crossed his arms in open defiance as he stared the young thirteen-year-old.

"Where have you been for the past six years?" he barked and Potter turned his one green eye onto the man.

"Here and there."

Scrimgeour growled, "That's not an answer."

"What makes you think the little lord owes you an answer?"

Tom had drawn attention to himself again and everyone turned to look at him. He placed a gloved hand onto the Lord Potter's shoulder. The dark haired boy looked up at the man with a raised eyebrow and he sighed.

"Don't be an idiot. And don't call me that."

Tom smirked but didn't retort. The 'little lord' looked back to Scrimgeour.

"I was experiencing things…did things…that not even _you _would be able to stomach. Now, Minister Fudge, my allegiance is to you. What will you have me do?" Potter asked and Amelia frowned at him.

"Your father…he had to train his skill for _years _before he was able to help track powerful wizards such as Sirius Black."

Harry snorted.

"Madam…I am well aware of what I'm doing."

His words were so matter-of-fact and simple that Amelia Bones had no doubt that this young man could find their elusive arsonist.

"What is the price on his head?" Tom asked, curiously and Potter looked up at him with a raised eyebrow but didn't silence him.

Amelia swallowed. "Two hundred thousand galleons."

The boy's lips curled into another black smile and he tilted his head.

"Done. Tom…question all former associates. Meet me back at the manor in three hours with detailed reports. Am I understood?" Potter asked, sharply and his voice was still blank as it had been when he had first arrived into the room.

"Yes, my Lord."

The man seemed to step into Potter's shadow once more and he fell onto one knee, his head bowed. Potter looked over his shoulder at the man and watched, blankly, as the man melted into his shadow and seemed to disappear.

The Potter Lord stood, suddenly and he looked over at Minister Fudge who still seemed shell-shocked. His black smile had slipped away and he looked as blank as before. The orphan nodded at the man, respect in his eyes.

"Minister. I shall see you once I have finished the job I have just been set to do."

With those final words, he swept from the room, confidence in his stride and his head held high.

Amelia shook her head, knowing that though she didn't trust the boy, she had absolute faith in him. She wasn't concerned that Sirius Black would finish the job.

Amelia's concerns were more for the fugitive than for the boy.

She wasn't sure if he'd be returned _alive_.

"Minister? What should we do about the press? Should we alert them to the boy's return?" Scrimgeour asked the Minister.

Fudge tilted his head.

"The Potter Lord will do as he wishes," Fudge said, softly and Amelia looked at the man, alarmed by his attitude.

"You trust him? You trust a little boy?" she demanded.

Even she could see that this boy's demeanour was due to intense trauma and if it had to do with the fire, it was Sirius Black's fault. That meant he was a liability just as much as he was an asset. She wasn't sure if it was safe to take that risk.

"I don't trust him, my dear Madam. But I trust that he will do what his family has been bound to do for centuries. He will not fail us," the Minister said and Amelia exchanged a glance with Scrimgeour whom looked just as doubtful as she felt.

She hoped that the Minister was right.

0o0

Harry Potter walked through Diagon Alley, ignoring the looks of curiosity and the sneers of disgust. He could only smirk. He knew that his outfit was drawing attention but he couldn't bring himself to care. He liked his clothing. They were original and set him apart in a way that drew attention away from his odd eye patch and his age.

Harry ducked under a wizard's arm and walked straight up to the great snow-white structure that they called Gringotts. It rested on the intersection where Diagon Alley parted into the rest of the shopping district and Knockturn Alley. Harry stared, curiously down the dark alley and made a note to go down there when he had the time. He had unfinished business down there.

The Potter scion shook himself and turned back towards the imposing building that towered over all the other shops in the immediate area. He walked straight past the two gold and crimson decorated goblins that flanked the bronze doors. Harry had never actually _been _to Gringotts as he had been very busy with other things. All of Harry's transactions had been taken care of by his faithful servant and all had to do with another account. He had a fair amount of money in the newer account, but he was curious to see what was in his family vaults.

Harry looked around the smaller entrance hall and he pursed his lips as he read the words engraved in a pair of silver doors. At first, he had assumed that they were a simple poem, but now he could see that they were in a warning.

"_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_," Harry read, softly and he snorted at the warning, rolling his eyes at the fact that apparently, goblins appreciated melodrama.

How utterly _amusing_.

The green-eyed boy continued through the silver doors and was mildly impressed by the hundreds of goblins that sat behind a long counter in the large hall. There were too many doors to count lining the walls and he assumed that one of them led to an area where he could access his vaults. Perhaps, there would be a room where he could finally, _officially _take up his role as the Potter Lord.

Harry walked past the other patrons in the bank whom were staring at him oddly. She walked up to the first empty desk and nodded at the goblin whom glared down at him with a lip curl. Harry's lips twitched at the open hostility that the goblin was showing and as he recalled the goblin-wizard history, he found that there was some logic to the goblin's anger. In their eyes, wizards had stolen from them again and again throughout history.

"How may I help you?"

The goblin's steely voice would have unnerved anyone else, but the dull burning that still resided in Harry's right eye told him that he would be safe…until the very end.

"I'd like to enter my vaults and apply for my Lordship."

The goblin leaned down and tapped his long, yellow nails on the counter, rhythmically.

"Do you have a key?"

"My key was unfortunately turned into molten liquid. I believe my blood would be proper enough identification," Harry said, coolly and the goblin's nose wrinkled and he nodded.

"Very well. I shall have someone take you the manager of the bank. Griphook!"

Griphook turned out to be another goblin. Harry watched at the short dark-skinned goblin walked up to him and cast him another disdainful look. Harry's lips twitched in amusement, but he didn't make any snide comments, as Tom would have.

"Please lead Mister…"

The goblin waited for Harry to speak.

"Potter. Harry potter."

The goblin's eyes widened and he stared down at Harry with narrowed, suspicious eyes and he hummed.

"I see. Please lead Mister _Potter _to the manager's office. Have him blood tested, immediately."

Griphook nodded, grabbed Harry by the elbow, and murmured, "This way."

Harry allowed himself to be manhandled just that once and he was led around the counter to the door just behind it. Griphook simply placed him palm on the wooden door and it gave way without the slightest force. Harry briefly wondered if he had seen goblin magic at work. He smirked when he concluded that he had and it was wonderful insight. As he was led down a long, barren hallway, Harry considered if he could in fact replicate the security measure. It seemed that only goblins could access certain parts of the bank and he wondered if that was true for the vaults as well.

Harry blinked when he realized that they had reached the end of the hallway and Griphook rapped hard on the heavy oak door before them. They waited for a minute.

"Enter."

Griphook turned the knob and Harry was quickly escorted into the room. He stared blankly at the goblin that sat behind the majestic desk in front of him. Papers were piled up on the tables and a heavy white board hung close to the floor on the wall. There were statistics and numbers scrawled across it in different inks and Harry looked back to the goblin whom was writing something quickly without even a little concern that someone had entered his office.

"What is it, Griphook? I am to leave soon for a meeting with the Goblin Liaison Office to discuss the economy and I am attempting to finish this report before I'm off."

Griphook looked almost nervous.

"Sir, I believe this will take precedence over almost anything."

The goblin looked up and his lip curled when he took in Harry. Harry nodded, respectfully but without loosing his amused half-smile. The goblin snorted and looked at Griphook as if he couldn't believe that he had brought Harry here.

"And _who _is this?"

Harry stepped forward, his hand outstretched

"Harry Potter. And you are?"

The goblin's eyes widened.

"Mulgarath, the Bank Manager. Mr. Potter, you say. We were led to believe that you were dead," Mulgarath said, carefully and without invitation, Harry sat down in the chair opposite Mulgarath's desk.

"Well, whomever told you that was sadly mistaken. I am very much…_alive_."

Mulgarath looked at him, uncertainly and nodded. He leaned back in his seat and his eyes scanned him. He seemed to find Harry's clothing odd, but instead of focusing on that as most of the shallow people of the world did, his eyes stopped on Harry's face. He was staring with scrutiny at Harry's eye patch. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation, but Harry simply stared at him with his uncovered eye.

"We can't simply accept your word for it. We will need some identification," Mulgarath finally said, his voice hard and unyielding once more and Harry lifted his arm, jerking back his sleeve and revealing his pale, unblemished wrist.

"As I told the goblin, I think my blood will be all the identification that you will need. If you would…"

Harry trailed off and stared, unblinkingly at the goblin before him. The goblin stared right back at him, as if he were testing him and Harry only sighed, bored already with the stare-off. Finally, the goblin nodded and reached into his desk and pulled out a chipped wooden bowl that looked as if it had seen better days. Resting in the small, shallow bowl was an old ceremonial knife, an athame.

"Slice at your wrist and let your lifeblood spill into the bowl. We shall see if you are whom you claim," Mulgarath said, sharply and Harry only spared him a cool smile before he lifted the athame and slashed mercilessly at his palm.

Blood welled from the deep wound almost immediately. Harry looked at the red staining his pale skin in fascination for just a moment before he remembered his task. He held his hand over the bowl and watched as the liquid rolled off his skin in rivulets. It was so mesmerizing to watch and he felt powerful. He had control over when he hurt and it was different when he hurt himself. He didn't feel as if it were at anyone else's mercy but his own.

It was liberating.

The bowl filled halfway with blood and Harry pulled his hand away. Mulgarath reached into his desk and slapped down a roll of gauze before he turned his attention to the bowl and began to speak words in Gobbledygook. Harry frowned but slowly wrapped his hand with the gauze and ignored how the gauze quickly turned pink before glowing. He felt the slight burning in his hand dull and he wondered if the gauze had healing properties.

He didn't ask.

He'd check later.

Harry watched with mild entertainment as the dull, wooden bowl seemed to shake and then glow black. As it glowed, Harry could make a few carvings in the side of the bowl that he hadn't noticed before. He could tell that they were Runes. His father's Moony had been rather good in Ancient Runes, according to their stories.

He also couldn't forget the two Runes branded onto his right eye.

"You're truly Harry Potter."

The awe in Mulgarath's tone could not be ignored. Well, it certainly could, especially when there were greater things that Harry needed to get to.

"Yes, I'm glad that you've realized that. Now, I'd like to know what exactly it was that I inherited, my bank statements, and my family rings. The Lordship ring," Harry commanded, sharply.

"Of course, Lord Potter. We'll have someone fetch your rings immediately. I believe I can pull up your summaries immediately," Mulgarath said, accommodatingly.

No one moved.

Mulgarath turned to glare at Griphook whom rushed off, assumedly to do as Mulgarath stated. Harry turned his gaze from Griphook and stared at Mulgarath with mild impatience. The man cleared his throat and stood from his desk, stalking towards the file cabinets tucked into the corner. He pulled one out and pulled out a massive file. Harry raised an eyebrow at that and cleared his throat.

"My entire family's history with this bank, I'd assume?"

Mulgarath looked up. "Your family has been around for a _very _long time, Lord Potter. This is only part of the entire file. This goes only seven generations back. Your family is _very _wealthy."

Harry smirked.

"Oh, I'm aware. May I see my statements?"

"Of course, Lord Potter."

Mulgarath flipped open the file and pushed it across the desk and towards Harry. Harry looked over the parchment with mild interest and he raised his eyebrow when he saw what was on the very first page. It was a profile on him, it seemed and he supposed that this had all the important information on it.

"Well, isn't this helpful…"

**Name:** Harry James Potter

**Age:** 13

**Date of Birth:** July 31, 1980

**Date of Death:** October 31, 1987

**Father:** James Potter (deceased)

**Mother:** Lily Marie Potter nee Evans (deceased)

**Godfather:** Lord Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated)

**Blood Status:** Half-blood

**Titles:** Lord of Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter

Lord of Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell

"We'll have to change that date of death nonsense...Peverell?" Harry murmured under his breath and Mulgarath looked up, sharply and with narrowed eyes.

"Peverell? That is a powerful name to hold, young Lord."

"Is it really?"

It wasn't a true question and Mulgarath knew it. It wasn't for him to answer, for it was clear that the young Potter Lord was speaking to himself. He seemed like a very strange, aloof boy and seemed much too old for his actual age. Mulgarath watched the young boy flipped the parchment over and perused his summaries from the years that he had been inactive in his Lordship duties.

**Potter Family Vault**

**Monetary Funds:** 400,000 Galleons, 12 Sickles, 12 Knuts, Large amounts of jewelry, portraits, assortment of valuable first-edition books, magical items, and the Potter Grimoire

**Investments:** Daily Prophet 30%, Gambol & Japes 15%, Flourish & Blotts 20%

**Properties:** Potter Manor (Burned), Potter Cottage (Godric's Hollow)

**Peverell Family Vault**

**Monetary Funds:** Assortment of books, Portraits, Questionable Dark Items, Peverell Grimoire

**Investments:** Gringotts Wizarding Bank 40%

**Properties:** N/A

"Sir?"

Harry looked up from the parchment, sharply and he flipped the file closed. Griphook was standing before him, a small wooden chest resting in his hands. He moved towards Mulgarath and set the wooden box upon the table before retreating. He cast another uncertain glance towards Harry before vacating the room, leaving boy and goblin to stare at the wooden chest as if it were to become animate and attack them.

"Lord Potter, I believe that you may want to claim your rings."

Harry jolted and he slowly flipped open the chest. He stared, quietly at the ring that had once been on his father's finger for so long. It was big so he knew it would be loose around any other ring but his thumb. It was a simple ring with a thick, masculine platinum band with an emerald cut ruby. Harry slowly slid it on, closing his eye and he touched his hand, imagining that it was his father's hand he was touching despite the fact that his father had worn this ring on his middle finger and his hand had been bigger and calloused.

Harry's eyes flashed open. The ruby glowed, softly.

"Lord Potter, what is it that you wish to do now?"

Harry looked up at Mulgarath. He stood and tucked the file underneath his arm even as Mulgarath reached for it.

"I will be taking this with me to look over. Please send me twenty of my last bank statements and set up a meeting with my account manager. That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time."

And with those cold, detached words, the Lord Potter was off.

Mulgarath stared after the strange child and he tilted his head.

And in Gobbledygook, Mulgarath whispered, "An oddity. There is something odd about that boy…"

He looked down at the box and saw the slighter ring that sat within with a princess cut emerald jewel. Mulgarath wondered why he hadn't taken it.

He didn't consider that the odd boy was still grieving for his dead parents.

0o0

The Potter Lord walked down the pathway through his perfectly manicured garden. As he walked up towards the front doors of the rebuilt Potter Manor, he wondered if Tom had returned yet. He decided that he most likely didn't. He was efficient but not by _that _much. Harry sighed as he reached the front doors. It swung open as soon as he lifted his hand and he took a step inside the _nearly _deserted manor.

Just as he moved towards the staircase that would lead him to his study, there was a shadow behind him. He spun, swiftly, his wand flying out from his sleeve and he caught it swiftly, his eyes trained on the man whom had appeared behind him. Harry's eyes widened when he saw that it was only Tom. He had a scroll of parchment in one hand.

"My Lord, I've returned with the information that you asked of me."

Harry's lips twitched into a half-smile.

"Very good, Tom. Now, tell me…where is he?"

"He's heading for Hogwarts. Do we go there now?" Tom questioned and Harry frowned, as he contemplated what he should do before he shook his head and sighed.

"No. Not yet. I want no one to know about me, just yet. Tom…I'll be in my study reviewing the status of the companies that my family invested in. Would you bring me something to eat?" Harry asked as he made his way towards the stairs.

He felt his stare on him and the large file that he held underneath his arm and he tried not to fidget under Tom's crimson eyes. Tom always made him nervous like this, though he knew he shouldn't be. He was the master in the situation, so really he had no reason to act _anxious_.

"Will you go back to retrieve your Book of Shadows?"

Harry frowned and looked over his shoulder.

"My _what_?"

Tom frowned. "It is what we call…it is the book that the head priest, the leader, of your coven holds."

Harry blinked.

"My _coven_?"

Tom growled as he tried to articulate what it was that he actually wanted to _say._ Harry resisted the urge to laugh at the frustration upon his servant's face and he waited patiently for him to spit it out.

"Your…fellow witches that share the same blood as you."

Harry snorted. "My family, you mean? Tom…it's been quite a long time. You've dressed me in the morning and have bathed me. I think you should know by now that I'm not a _witch_."

Tom's eyes flashed, but his lips curled into a slight smirk.

"I'm aware of your nether-parts, my Lord. But, you mortals are so foolish. A witch is a witch. A user of magic. Your silly gender designations make me pity you," Tom said, arrogantly and Harry raised an eyebrow at the outright haughtiness that came from the man before him.

He hadn't been this much of a bastard in a while.

"You're such an arse."

It was a simple statement that wasn't to be argued with, though Tom did scowl from the boy's insult.

"Of course, _my Lord_."

Harry snorted, "It would be greatly appreciated if your sarcasm was put on mute. Thank you. Now, I think you're referring to my family Grimoire. I will go retrieve it. Eventually."

Tom frowned.

"You need it. You don't know how to track."

Harry glared over his shoulder at the contractual servant in annoyance. Tom was so…_annoying _when he pointed out what Harry could and couldn't do. It was angering that the man could get to him so easily. Harry's anger slipped away as he took deep breaths. He wouldn't let anger control him.

Even though Tom constantly told him that that was his driving source of energy.

"It's instinctual as much as learned, Tom. My father taught me a few tricks before he…passed away," Harry snapped and Tom smirked at him, as if he knew that his father hadn't really been too preoccupied with teaching him the family trade when he didn't care for it too much anyway.

"Of course, my Lord. Now about your coven's Book of Shadows…"

Harry sighed. "Retrieve it for me tomorrow."

Tom smirked.

"I'm glad that you've finally realized that I'm right and that you need it to find Black so that I may…dispose of him," Tom said and he pulled the long dark cloak off his shoulders and tossed it over one arm as he moved towards the side door that led to the kitchen and Harry leaned over the railings of the stairs.

"Our contract isn't complete until we find the bastards in the masks. I hope you know that."

Tom raised an eyebrow looked up with a slightly mocking smile.

"I will not leave you until we've finished what we started," and Tom said this solemnly and without a hint of joking in his voice. His crimson eyes don't let go of Harry's green graze for what seem like minutes.

Harry gives a nervous snort.

"Yes…until we've finished what we started. Will you bring me tea with my food? The one my mother liked?" Harry whispered, softly and his hand clenched into a tight fist. He felt the heavy, cold metal of the ring against his soft skin.

"As you wish, my Lord."

:::

**A/N: **Here it is.


	3. Chapter 2

**Title:** Until The End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**Summary:** He would be there, anywhere he wished him to follow. Even if his throne crumbled, even if his brilliant crown rusted, even if the bodies piled up endlessly. He would be there. Until the very end.

**Pairing:** HP/TMR

**Warnings:** Eventual slash, blood, gore

**(Chapter) Rating**: T

**Words:** 6999

Until The End

**Chapter 2**

"Madam Bones?"

The severe blonde woman looked up at the team that appeared in her office. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her comfortable, plush seat. She waited for them to speak, but the squad members looked at her, uncertainly. She knew that that was bad news and she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what they had to say. Yet, she was the Head of the DMLE and she _had _specifically requested that she be kept up to date on this particular case, so she waited. She waited in vain for the squad stood in silence for the next two minutes.

"What is it? Why are you not out searching for Sirius Black?" the woman barked, angrily.

The leader, one Alastor Gumboil, leaned forward and then leaned back onto his heels. He seemed nervous about something.

"Madam, we began pursuing Black but we could find no trace of him. We stopped by various houses of known ex-associates, but they claimed that we came by to speak with them _yesterday_. We have no leads and no answers," Gumboil murmured and he sounded ashamed.

Madam Bones could see why. His team was known as being the best and to have been so unprepared for this possibility, it must have hurt his pride. Bones leaned back in her seat and frowned as Gumboil babbled on about Black, Polyjuice Potion, and the possibility of an accomplice. It was only when he got to the description of the supposed hit wizard.

She looked up with narrowed eyes.

"Repeat that."

"And he—I'm sorry, Madam?"

Madam Bones almost groaned and she slammed her hands across the desk in front of her, her fingers splayed out and her amber eyes flashing in annoyance.

"Repeat the description of the man."

Gumboil cleared his throat. "They said he was tall and pale and he had…this odd, but, they said he had _crimson _eyes."

Madam Bones' eyes widened and she stood, sharply. The four-man squad looked surprised by her sudden movement and they watched as the woman walked briskly to the fireplace in her wall. She growled underneath her breath and took a pinch of the Floo powder before furrowing her brow and dropping it back in. She turned around and gave a long sigh. She leaned against the mantle and closed her eyes.

"Potter," she growled under her breath.

She heard four simultaneous gasps and she supposed that it was due to the named she had dared to utter.

"Yes?"

Perhaps not.

Madam Bones' eyes snapped open and she stared down at the young man that stood before her. He was dressed oddly again. He wore emerald green shorts, a double-breasted emerald green blazer and instead of tall boots, he wore loafers with heels. Madam Bones glared down at the strangely innocent face and her eyes passed over that wretched eye patch again. She wasn't sure if it was morbid curiosity or her gut instinct but she wanted to see what was under the eye patch. There was something entirely…odd about it. There weren't any other marks on the boy's face, so whatever had been done to his eye had been done deliberately.

"You sent your servant after the information yesterday," she snapped and Lord Potter blinked.

"Yes. Is there something you wanted to ask of me?" he asked, his tone dry and rather disrespectful despite the fact that he was speaking to the Head of the DMLE.

Gumboil stepped forward, his wand extended and an uncertain look on his face. "How about we start with the obvious one. How did you get in here?"

Potter looked over his shoulder and tilted his head with a slight smile. He walked towards Gumboil and the man's wand lit at the end, dangerously. Potter walked towards one of the seats in front of Madam Bones' desk and sat down, reclining easily. He crossed one leg over the other, primly and cleared his throat.

"Madam Bones?" he said, softly.

She frowned.

"You didn't answer the question," she reminded him, stiffly and Lord Potter looked surprised for a moment before it was wiped off his face, leaving him blank once more.

"I wasn't aware that I had to answer to anyone but the Minister. That is what my family has done for the past seven generations. I don't believe my father had to answer to the Head of the DMLE after he tracked down and captured Fenrir Greyback. I think he just dumped in his office, if I remember correctly," Lord Potter said, frigidly and Madam Bones glared at the haughty boy that seemed to believe that he knew so much.

He was too full of himself and already Madam Bones knew that he had to be taken down a peg. She took a step towards him but he seemed unthreatened by her carefully made movements.

"You're interfering with an investigation and the pursuit of a dangerous criminal."

"I'm not interfering. If anything, _you're _interfering," the boy snapped and Madam Bones' raised a single eyebrow at his audacity. She crossed her arms as she gaze down at the boy that she did not trust at all.

"In what?"

"The pursuit of my parents' murderer."

Madam Bones blinked when she remembered that the reason for this boy's involvement and his re-entering of society. The Head of the DMLE had the distinct feeling that this boy had only emerged because it was Sirius Black whom had escaped. She wasn't sure as to how he had known that before herself and Scrimgeour, but he had.

"You're…you're Harry Potter."

Lord Potter looked over his shoulder at Gumboil, unimpressed.

"Brilliant deduction. Really."

The bored sarcasm within his voice made Gumboil turn red in embarrassment. The Lord had successfully belittled Gumboil with three words. Madam Bones pursed her lips.

He was ruthless.

"We're trying to help. There are things that an underage thirteen-year-old can't _do_."

"Like what?" Potter asked, patiently.

"Use magic, for one," Madam Bones said, carefully and Potter's lips twitched.

"Of course, I can't."

Madam Bones' eyes narrowed.

"No one will take you seriously," she warned him and Potter gave an innocent smile.

He leaned forward. "Oh, but they will."

Madam Bones scoffed and she turned around to face the charmed windows that portrayed what the weather was like up above in London. It was raining, as it always was. Madam Bones shouldn't have been so surprised, really. It was perpetually raining.

"How do you come to think that? You're a thirteen-year-old _child_."

Potter tilted his head.

"I'm not a child. I'm not allowed to be a child anymore. You still don't take me seriously, but I have more information about this case than you. What does that say about you and myself?" Potter demanded and Madam Bones would have flushed in embarrassment if she didn't have such a good hold on her emotions.

"That you have people do your dirty work."

Potter's eyes flashed. "Tom…has sworn to protect me…to serve me. He would do _anything _for me and he _does _anything for me. I know that people would not take me seriously and thus, I sent him. I'm not an ignorant, arrogant child, Madam, but people tend to see me as such. It is better to deal with an arrogant adult than an arrogant child."

Madam Bones blinked in shock when she heard the boy's insightful and revealing words. The servant, Tom, was bound by a sworn promise, it seemed. Madam Bones knew that she needed the boy to cooperate with her and thus, that meant she would have to treat him as an equal.

"Lord Potter…"

Potter shook his head, effectively silencing her. "No. I am speaking. I am duty-bound to track this criminal, now that I have revealed myself, but make no mistake about it. If it were any other criminal, I would have stayed in my hidden little manor. But, this arsonist ruined my life and murdered my family. This is a vendetta and I _will _see it through. You work with me or not at all. That means I know _everything _and _anything _about this case and in return, I will give you the information that my servant has compiled for me. Take it or leave it."

The ultimatum wasn't hard to decide.

"Take it. We'll work with you," Madam Bones said, softly and Gumboil looked outraged.

"He's a child!" he protested and Potter turned a glowing green eye onto the older man.

"He's not. He's a tracker," Madam Bones revised and she sent him a glare.

Gumboil looked properly cowed by Madam Bones' and Harry's combined glares. Harry straightened and he fell back against the seat. His eye slid closed and he seemed to be whispering to himself.

"Lord Potter?" Madam Bones asked, softly with a detached sense of concern.

The boy was frowning.

He hushed her before straightening and his left eye flew open. "Tom. Come here."

Madam Bones watched once more as Lord Potter's shadow twisted and shifted and that tall man appeared out of nowhere. Gumboil jumped, obviously expecting a house elf of some sort. That was not the case and Tom smirked at Gumboil whom looked shocked to see him.

"Crimson eyes…you're the one who conducted our investigation!" Gumboil accused.

Tom smirked.

"Guilty. But only done because my Lord expected it of me. You rang?" Tom asked, looking at his lord with an innocent look on his face.

"Did you bring me what I asked for?"

"Of course. Have I ever failed you?" Tom asked and Harry's eye flashed open and he glared, accusingly at the man.

"Yes. I would like for Madam Bones to look over the information that you compiled yesterday. Would you give that to her for me? Thank you."

Madam Bones blinked as the taller man pulled out what looked like a scroll and tossed it onto the desk. Harry unrolled it quickly and looked over it before gesturing towards it. Madam Bones walked quickly towards the duo, casting Tom a suspicious look before reading the carefully compiled and documented information. Her eye's widened.

"You've gotten their classmates…former girlfriends…acquaintances…" she murmured, softly and Harry nodded, looking over her shoulder and reading it over as well.

Madam Bones glanced at Harry, but the boy seemed to have frozen.

"Where is he?"

"He who?" Madam Bones asked but the boy wasn't paying any attention to her.

He was staring at Tom.

"I couldn't get hold of him."

"Where. Is. Remus. Lupin?" Harry snarled, his teeth bared and he looked nothing like the child that Gumboil claimed him to be.

His eye was narrowed and there was a cruelty and maliciousness there. Tom looked undeterred by all of the hostile energy directed at his person. If anything, he looked more at ease just at that moment than he had been since he had entered the room. It was clear to Madam Bones that despite how loyal Harry claimed Tom to be, he didn't seem to concerned with how angry he made his Lord.

"I couldn't reach him…the wards…keep me out."

Harry looked at him, sharply.

"Indefinitely?"

Tom tilted his head. "I'm not sure. I would need more time. My Lord…he's at Hogwarts."

Harry cursed under his breath and he stood from his seat, holding his walking stick in hand. He didn't look like he wanted to keep up appearances any longer, thus the stick wasn't entirely necessary. The boy turned to look at the confused squad. Madam Bones looked to the group and her eyes fell on the only person that didn't seem confused or uncertain. Rebecca Borgia seemed almost bored, but she was almost always like that.

"Hogwarts. Why are you looking for some man named Remus Lupin?" Borgia asked, sharply and Harry looked up at her.

He seemed to be struggling with the rage that he was attempting to contain. Finally, his face went smooth and bored once more.

"Because…he was my father's friend…he is Sirius Black's only surviving best friend. And he is who Black is most likely to go to," Harry said and his voice sounded strained.

Rebecca seemed surprised by the answer.

"Then you will accompany us."

Harry frowned. "Accompany you where?"

Gumboil growled and looked at his subordinate, snarling, "Borgia…hold your tongue."

Borgia ignored him.

"To Hogwarts. Tomorrow. Arrive in Hogsmeade at six. We'll look around and report to you any findings. If we find something substantial to go off of, we'll come up with a plan accordingly."

Harry's lips twitched and he nodded once. He turned to Madam Bones.

"I agree with this plan action. You may review the information, but I do expect it back by tomorrow. Make sure that you're well-versed and prepared. That's all I ask…Tom!" Harry suddenly barked and the man simply turned to him, not surprised by Harry's harsh tone in the least.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Lets go have some fun."

0o0

The bustling office grew silent the moment that Harry had stepped into the doorway. Tom's tall body cast a long, menacing shadow. Harry wondered if that was due to his _body _or the fact that hidden within that human-like body was something not of this world. He didn't dwell on it long, for he had more important thing to do at the moment.

"Who are you, kid?"

Harry blinked at the barking photographer before he tilted his head, a contemplative expression on his face. He wondered if he should play with them a little longer, but he wanted to get this done as soon as possible. He had some heavy reading to do that night, in the form of his family's Grimoire. He didn't have time for games today, unfortunately.

Harry extended his ring. "Lord Harry. James. Potter."

More silence.

Harry's lips curled into a smile.

The office burst into noise and handfuls of journalists crowded him, trying to get his attention. Questions were being shouted at him, but he did not lose his composure. He looked up and over his shoulder and saw Tom smirking in amusement. The man always did find mortals so very amusing and stupid. Harry had a feeling that Tom had only made a deal with him because he had been so unlike other humans. He was very unlike other mortals.

"I'd like to see the Editor-in-Chief, Mr. Barnabas Cuffe. Now, thank you."

The dismissive request seemed to require touching. Two reporters, one male and one female, wrapped hands around his wrists and tried to tug him along, all the while shouting questions at him. Harry jerked back and the two didn't release their grips, still dragging him as if he were a common dog. A hand settled on both of the reporters' wrists.

"You will release my Lord willingly or I will have to use force. I don't think you'll like that very much."

Tom sounded pleasant, but his body language told another story. Cautiously, the two reporters removed their hands from the thirteen-year-old boy. Harry instantly relaxed and he heard someone clear their throat. Harry turned to look at an older blonde woman. Her hair was curled so tightly that they looked like little sausages. Her lips were painted an obnoxiously bright red and there was a hunger in the eyes that were partially hidden by bejewelled glasses. Her emerald green robes were fashionable and she seemed intrigued by Harry's clothing.

"Lord Potter, I will escort you to the Editor's office," she said, sweeping into an overdone curtsey and Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"Sure. Your name?"

"Rita Skeeter."

Harry tilted his head as he looked over the blonde reporter. She was practically salivating just from the fact that they were speaking. It was rather pathetic though Harry was smart enough not to voice his thoughts. Tom was already looking at the woman in disdain, so it was clear that he was already annoyed. This wasn't a surprise, really. Tom looked down on practically everybody.

"Well then, Miss Skeeter, if you would hurry to direct me to the Editor's office, that would truly be appreciated," Harry said, softly and Skeeter gave a little giggle and quickly walked towards the Editor's joke, Harry following after her with Tom at his back.

Skeeter didn't even knock. She threw the door open and there was a grunt of surprise and then a growl of annoyance.

"Skeeter! I'm busy prepping the front-page article about Black's escape. I'm _very _busy," Barnabas Cuffe snapped and Skeeter looked too excited to even care that her boss was glaring at her with darts in his eyes.

"Are you really too busy for the Harry Potter, sir?" Skeeter baited and she stepped to the side with a flourish.

Harry stepped forward and stared, unblinkingly at the large man sitting in his chair. He was only slightly overweight and he wore pinstripe robes that were rather in style these days. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was just thinning atop his head. His skin was tanned and he looked like he had been in the sun for days. The man looked absolutely gobsmacked.

"Harry…Potter?" Cuffe whispered.

Harry smiled, sweetly. "Lord Harry Potter, if you would. And I believe I've just rearranged tomorrow's paper. I would say I'm sorry, but…I'm really not."

Cuffe seemed surprised by Harry's blunt statement and he was even more surprised when Harry's smile slipped off his face and he looked more than a little serious. The boy moved forward and sat down in the seat opposite Cuffe's without invitation. Tom only smirked at Harry's movements.

"What can I do for you, Lord Potter?" Cuffe asked, gruffly.

"You can run my return in tomorrow's paper and make sure I don't share front page with Mr. Sirius Black," Harry said, sharply and Skeeter looked at the boy, alarmed.

"Lord Potter…aren't you a…"

"Yes, I'm a tracker. Yes, I know Sirius Black killed my parents and attempted to kill me. Yes, I know Black may possibly read the Prophet and see my name. Did it occur to you that that was _exactly _what I wanted?" Harry challenged and Cuffe and Skeeter's eyes widened in shock at Harry's clipped words.

Tom blinked.

"You want him to know," Tom said, softly and Harry nodded once in confirmation.

He watched as a wicked smile spread across Tom's face and Harry turned to look at Cuffe whom frowned in confusion.

"Lord Potter…you have to understand that this is very fast paced. We're close to printing time and I think it's rather _dangerous _that you want Sirius Black to come after. Dangerous and rather suicidal," Cuffe said and Harry's eye twitched at the patronizing tone in the man's voice.

His hands squeezed into fist and he took a threatening step forward, his green eye narrowed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was pulled back behind a tall, lean body. He glared at Tom's back, but held back, wondering what the man had to say. It was not often that Tom would intercede on his part. He preferred to watch Harry grow irritated with those that underestimated him.

"Don't play the part of a fool, Mr. Cuffe. My Lord knows exactly what he's doing. Questioning him will only prove you the fool," Tom stated, arrogantly and Harry's lips twitched at the sight of Cuffe turning a slight red before he straightened and then relaxed in his seat.

"Why would you want a dangerous arsonist to find you?" Skeeter asked in confusion and Harry smiled as he looked up at the blonde woman.

"It's more of a message that _I _will find _him_. Now, if you would run the story for tomorrow's prophet and Black's escape for The Evening Prophet, that would be great," Harry said, coolly and before he even heard Cuffe and Skeeter's answers to his demand, he was out the door and walking past the invasive reporters.

He ignored the shouted questions and the flashes of pictures being taken. The boy turned to look at his faithful servant whom looked endlessly amused by everything.

"Take me home, Tom."

"As you wish."

And they disappeared in a shadow.

0o0

"You think he'll show up?" Lex asked his boss as the group walked the perimeter of Hogwarts.

The man looked to Gumboil, but the man seemed to be considering the question himself. Lex looked to Rebecca, but she already seemed bored with their activity. Not that he had really expected anything else because boredom was Rebecca's default setting.

"Of course, he'll show up. With his sexy servant too, I'm betting. This isn't just a job for him," Rebecca pointed out and Gumboil looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Isn't it?"

Rebecca snorted. "Of course it's not. This is a vendetta. He said so himself."

"Look."

The three hitwizards looked at the youngest member of their group, a young wizard by the name of Blake. At least, that was what they all called him. He was apparently embarrassed by his first name, so even as a trainee he had been called Blake.

They looked to where he was gesturing and saw the shadows of two figures standing in the middle of the mist that was quickly spreading around the small village. They walked slowly and the smaller figure emerged first. Rebecca watched as Lord Harry Potter came into sight, donning a crimson and black outfit. It was ostentatious and flamboyant, but also rather beautiful.

The young Lord wore a frilly black shirt opened underneath a double-breasted crimson jacket that was lined with braided golden embellishments. The lace-lined black shirt frilled out over the top of a pair of crimson shorts that came to his knee. Grey roses lined the left side of his open jacket. A big black and crimson striped bow was tied to his back and a long grey train hung on the ground, fishnet lace on the edges of the train. Black socks went to his knees, secured by red leather straps with gold buckles. Grey, black, and crimson boots were laced up and he still had that heel that added height to him. To finish the ensemble, he wore a black scarf around his neck.

He was still wearing the strange eye patch, but his hair practically obscured it. His servant was by his side in wizard robes, his crimson eyes flashing with amusement.

"Good evening, Lord Potter," Rebecca said, softly and the young Lord nodded, slowly at her before looking around the fog covered village.

"Good evening, Miss Borgia. Gumboil. Blake. Gaspar."

Each member of the squad nodded at the man and his servant, but they found that Tom wasn't paying any attention to them. He was looking around with narrowed eyes and when his eyes found Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his eyes narrowed. His lips curled in disgust for some odd reason and Rebecca wondered if it was because he had attended another wizarding school that thought itself above Hogwarts.

"My Lord, the rain is about to fall," Tom said, evenly and without any inflection in his voice.

Lord Harry Potter didn't even turn to look at his servant. He only nodded while he stared at the four adult wizards with his single eye.

"Do what you do best."

"As you wish, my Lord. I warn you. There's something…off. I am not sure what, but I sense a prescence not completely unlike my own."

Rebecca observed as Lord Potter twitched at his servant's words. How very interesting. Tom had spoken very deliberately and Lord Potter had reacted in kind to his cryptic words.

"Do what you do best."

Tom nodded. "As you wish, my Lord. If you need me."

"I will not hesitate to call to you. Now, go do what you do best," Lord Potter repeated and the third time seemed to be the charm for Tom's lips twitched into a wide, frightening smile that did nothing to calm the team's nerves.

"As you _wish_, my Lord," he purred and the man took off on a run.

Rebecca's eyes widened when Tom scaled the wall of the closest building and swung himself up onto the ceiling. He kneeled and stared with glowing red eyes through the thick fog. He almost disappeared completely within it, but for his sinister eyes.

His voice floated through the fog. "Do you what you do best, Harry Potter…"

Lord Potter's lips twitched. "As you wish."

Rebecca watched as the fog suddenly thickened around Tom's body and then suddenly cleared, revealing an empty space. The entire team turned questioning gazes onto Lord Potter, but he didn't seem inclined to explain anything about what had just occurred.

"What have you found out?" Harry questioned.

Rebecca looked over at Gumboil whom nodded at Lex.

Lex took a step forward, pulling out a scroll of parchment from one of the many pockets on the inside of his robe.

And here it was, the first demonstration of their team dynamics. Typically, hit wizard teams were made of six people. There was the leader, the strategist, the guy who gathered intel, the fire power, the Obliviator, and the interrogator. However, Gumboil's team was just a tad different from the norm, which made them perfect to apprehend a wizard such as Sirius Black.

Gumboil was the leader and the Obliviator, of course and was a veteran. He had once been an Auror, trained under Mad-Eye Moody who had thought he was destined for greater things. Gumboil had quickly moved on to be a hitwizard and he had gathered his own team of those that he thought destined for greatness. Rebecca Borgia, though a foreign witch from Italy, was one of those destined for greatness and she had been his second from the moment she joined the team. She was the fire power and was the strategist when her services were required. Blake was a master interrogator and Lex, fresh out of the Academy, had come out as one of the top as an intel-gatherer.

Lex cleared his throat. "We haven't found much, but we have found out that Remus Lupin is definitely a possible lead. They were close. However, we would need to gain access to Hogwarts for us to question him. However, that wouldn't be possible tonight."

Potter's eye flashed.

"Why not?"

Lex glared at the boy, annoyed that he had been interrupted.

"We've also found that he was a werewolf."

Potter stopped for a moment, before his eyes widened and his lips twitched.

"The Marauders."

"Excuse me?" Gumboil asked gruffly.

Potter cleared his throat and jerked his towards the Three Broomsticks.

"Lets go grab a table and I'll tell you."

"Why not the Hog's Head? It's emptier," Blake pointed out and Potter shook his head.

"Better chance of being overheard. I've been told the Three Broomsticks is always crowded. There's more noise to cover what we're talking about and privacy wards will make sure that none of our information will be revealed to those that could go to the press."

Gumboil frowned, not wanting to admit that the boy had a point. Rebecca shrugged and stepped forward towards the Three Broomsticks and Potter fell into step by her side. Rebecca looked down at him in surprise, but the boy didn't look up at her.

Rebecca turned to look forward and they continued their walk towards the renown pub. Rebecca tilted her head.

"What happened to your eye? Did it happen when the Great Fire did?"

Potter didn't even twitch at the mention of his parents' murder.

"No."

Potter didn't explain his simple answer and Rebecca was never one to leave anything alone. She was a shit interrogator, but when she wanted to know something, she didn't quit until her curiosity was sated. Her instructors in Italy had never been able to decide if that was good or bad thing. Of course, with her father being the director of the _Agenzia Magica Intelligenza_, she had to be good, whether she was or was not.

"When did it happen?"

"After."

"How?" she asked as the Lord Potter opened the door for her and she walked through, catching every man's eye in her close-fitting black robes.

They admired how her black trousers clung to her legs and how her double breasted black shirt fit her curves. Her long black cloak hung over her. The Ministry of Magic insignia was over her right breast, the gold drawing attention to them.

And then, they suddenly realized who she was.

What she was.

Hitwizard.

"Excuse me, ma'am, what can I do for you? Someone has already come by."

Both Potter and Rebecca turned to look at Rosemerta whom looked nervous and a little miffed. Rebecca shook her head and she cleared her throat.

"Oh, no. My team has only come here for dinner. Lord Potter, let's go choose a seat before we find something to eat," Rebecca said, sharply and this drew everyone's attention to both witch and wizard once more.

Rosemerta looked struck and Rebecca could tell she had read the morning Prophet.

"Lord Potter?"

"In the flesh, Madame. Miss Borgia, where's the rest of your team? I'd like to say what I have to say once and only once and my servant is due to return soon with more information."

"We're right here, Potter."

Rebecca shot a look at grumpy Grumboil, but he wasn't concerned with insulting their secret weapon. Potter didn't even seem to mind the fact that Grumboil had dropped the honorific. He actually looked secretly pleased, oddly enough.

"Good. Let's find us a table," Potter said, sharply and he led them through the close tables and the stares that they were receiving before sitting at a table in the very back.

Rebecca wasn't sure if she should sit next to him before deciding that it didn't matter. She plopped down into her seat and leaned back with a frown on her face. Grumboil sat across from the young Lord and Lex sat to the man's left. Blake sat on Gumboil's right and stared.

"Put up the privacy wards," Potter commanded and with a sour look on his face, Lex did as Potter had instructed.

"Now, tell us what you mean by 'the Marauders'," Gumboil commanded as soon as Lex finished with the spells.

Potter leaned back and placed his hands on the table, his fingers spread wide.

"The Marauders…were a fairy story that my father and…godfather used to tell me when I was a child," Potter started.

Lex snorted. "Aren't you still a child?"

Potter stared with one eye. "I haven't been a child for a very long time, Mister Gaspar. Not since I watched my mother and father burn to death."

Lex looked properly cowed and looked away. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

"Lord Potter, if you would continue."

Potter nodded. "The Marauders were a group of four men named Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Three were Animagus and one…Moony, was a werewolf. Now, they had adventures and like and I'm not surprised I hadn't seen the connection before. I was only a child when I heard the stories. My father…was an Animagus. He used to transform into a…stag and I'd ride around on his back until my mother yelled at him to stop before I hurt myself. A stag has antlers with _prongs_. If Lupin was Moony, which it most probably is, then Black was either Wormtail or Padfoot."

Gumboil's eyes widened in surprise and his eyes narrowed. "I don't believe Lord James Potter was registered or everyone would have known."

Potter's lips twitched into a strange grin that looked almost wooden but had a faint hint of genuineness to it.

"Only the important people know. But, yes, he was unregistered. But, that's besides the point, really."

"He's right. James Potter is dead and we don't know which Black would be, if the stories are true at all, which we don't know yet," Lex pointed out and Blake cleared his throat.

"But they could also be _true_," Blake pointed out.

Potter nodded.

"Wormtail was a rat and Padfoot was a big black dog that looked a bit like the Grim," Potter added and Rebecca hummed.

"Blake, what do you know about Black from the interviews?" Rebecca asked, referring to Black's questioning after he had been brought in under suspicion for arson and murder.

"He wouldn't be the rat. He wasn't subtle at all. He kept screaming and carrying on that it wasn't him. That is was the traitor. He was raving mad. The evidence was so damning anyway that his carrying on didn't even really matter in the end," Blake deadpanned and Potter seemed completely untroubled by the conversation at hand.

"Then he'd have to be Padfoot. He's an Animagus. But, the trouble is finding him and it's obvious that we can't just announce to the world that we're looking for a large black dog," Potter said, sharply and Rebecca nodded in agreement.

"Too true. Everyone will be paranoid and will start pointing out black dogs left and right. We'll…_you'll _have to track him," Rebecca said and Potter nodded in agreement.

"We will, but I need a scent. I can _literally _sniff out his magical trail, but I need a scent and Lupin is our best bet."

Gumboil frowned. "A magical _scent? _If that's true, why Lupin and now Black's cell?"

"Because. The dementors' magic masks his. It suppresses his magic and I wouldn't be able to get a proper scent. The dementors would probably distract me anyway. But, with a person…Black spent a lot of time with Lupin. I'm suspecting that they were…involved at one time. That imprints on a person. And I'll be able to sniff it out, even if it was such a long time ago. But, first, I need to have access to the castle and make sure it's safe. Tom is doing that for me now. Speaking of Tom…_Tom_," Potter said, never speaking above his quiet tone, even when he called for his servant and Rebecca gasped when she felt the privacy wards shatter and she looked up to see Potter's faithful servant.

"_Yes_?" the man hissed, softly.

"What did you find?"

"There's someone in there. Someone like me. Except, he's not _bound_," Tom spat, as if the word was poison and Rebecca frowned in confusion.

"What? What do you mean like you?" Gumboil barked.

Tom gave a rather frightening smile.

"In time, my dear man. Now, my sweet Lord, what do you wish of me?"

Potter's lips twitched.

"I want you to break through the castle wards."

Tom didn't react, but Rebecca, Gumboil, Lex, and even Blake gasped. Blake shook his head, sharply.

"Impossible. The wards have been up for centuries and with the breakout Albus Dumbledore has only added more."

Potter continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"That's an order."

0o0

Albus Dumbledore sat in his large golden chair as he observed the students under him. The four separate houses were speaking rather loudly, most likely on Sirius Black's escape. Albus' eyes narrowed just at the thought of Sirius' name. The man threatened everything, especially the lives of the students at his school. The man would come here looking for a boy that had never attended Hogwarts.

"Albus, did you read the Prophet this morning?" Minerva asked, softly and he could hear her clearly through the students' loud talk about the news that had been in the evening Prophet the night before and what had appeared in the morning's prophet.

It was the evening and they were _still _talking about it and Albus suspected that they would be for quite some time.

"I did, in fact. To find that young Mister Potter _did _survive that tragic day? How wonderful," Albus said, flashing his trustworthy professor a bright smile and Minerva returned it with a small smile of her own.

"Do you think he will come to us? Do you think he remembers us? We did come by often enough," Minerva asked, impatiently and Albus tilted his head as he considered what the bright young man that had been born to Lily and James had been like.

He had been kind and sweet. His spirit had been almost unbreakable and he had had the most beautiful green eyes that Albus had ever seen. Harry had been playmates with the two youngest Weasley children and they had liked to fly around on their play broomsticks while the adults spoke. To Albus' knowledge, James had not taught Harry anything about their tracker abilities due to Albus' advice, but Albus wasn't sure if James had taken his advice.

The boy had never liked his job in the first place so Albus wondered if he would subject his child to something as barbaric as that.

"I'm sure he will, Minerva. We'll go and fetch him tomorrow, I think," Albus decided and Minerva nodded in agreement just as Severus stiffened next to him and Albus frowned.

"Albus…"

Albus turned to look at Severus, confused by the man's hesitance.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Something…someone…there is someone like _me _in the castle," Severus said, softly and Albus' eyes widened at the implications of the man's words and Severus winced as he clutched at his own forearm where the tattoo of an unbound immortal would be.

Albus' eyes flashed, dangerously. "Wh—"

Before Albus could even finish his question, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open and the students fell silent as they stared at the six people that stood in the doorway. Albus' eyes widened ever so slightly as he took in the appearance of the four hit-wizards flanking the two people at the forefront.

There was little Harry Potter whom wasn't so little any longer. He stood taller with black hair that fell over his right eye. He wore the oddest outfit in crimson and for some reason he was wearing women's boots with heels. Albus knew as he looked into the young man's green eye that he was about to meet someone very different from whom he thought. This was not the same boy. The person before him was a man who had seen much and looked ready for revenge.

The man standing next to him was much taller and towered over all four people behind them. He was possibly taller than Albus himself whom stood at a proud 183 centimetres. The man donned wizard robes as opposed to Harry and he had crimson eyes. Albus felt Severus stiffen next to him and he wondered if this was the person that Severus had sensed.

When Albus stayed silent longer than he had intended, the whispers had begun. Harry Potter didn't even seem concerned.

He moved forward and the man next to him moved with him as if they couldn't be separated and Albus froze. He hoped that it wasn't true.

When Harry finally read the Head Table, he scanned it for something or some_one. _When he didn't find what he was looking for, he turned back to face Albus and Albus flinched when he saw that Harry Potter had an eye patch over his left eye.

"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

The words were spoken without little inflection.

Albus stood and spread his arms wide as if he were about to receive a hug and he smiled down at the boy. He grew slightly uncomfortable when the boy didn't smile back.

"Ah, Harry, my boy. I was so relieved to hear that you were alive. And you've come to me. We can get your magical training started—"

"That wont' be necessary. The HitWizard Squad behind me and myself would like to speak to you in private, if you would. We're handling the delicate matter of capturing and possibly executing on Sirius Black. If you would come with us to your office, you'd be doing a grand favour."

Albus almost shivered. Through Harry's entire speech, Harry's tone had not changed once. He had sounded bored and as if he didn't feel a single thing. It was completely unnerving and even the hit-wizards behind Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. Only the man standing next to Harry, staring intently at Severus was smiling and he looked amused.

"I think you should do what my Lord says, Headmaster. He doesn't like waiting," the man said, amusedly and Harry shot him an intense glare.

"Shut it, Tom," Harry snapped and it was the first show of emotion that Albus had seen in the entire time that the young man had been there.

"As you wish, my Lord. Any other orders?" Tom asked with laughter in his otherworldly red eyes.

"Do what you do best. That's an order."

Albus' eyes widened at the words and he felt Severus stiffen.

That confirmed it. This man was no ordinary man. This man was not of their world.

Tom leaned down and both his and his Lord's faces were on centimetres apart.

"As you wish, my Lord."

With those words, he disappeared into Harry's shadow and Albus' eyes widened as he realized why the boy wore such a long train and why he wore heels. He was making his shadow longer so that it was easier for his servant to travel.

Albus ignored how the disappearing act caused his students to erupt into more chatter and Albus stood, not wanting them to disrupt his school anymore than they had.

"Follow me to my office then, my boy. We'll discuss things there," Albus said with a bright smile and Harry nodded before he turned on his heel and walked towards the door with the hit-wizard squad just behind him.

Albus leaned down to whisper in Severus' ear.

"Follow the demon."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Severus stood, his dark eyes narrowed on Harry's back and suddenly, the boy darted for the nearest child's place setting and spun, throwing a steak knife at Severus. Albus gasped when the steak knife embedded itself in the wood where Severus' hand had just been. Harry didn't relax and there were screams from several students in the room.

Albus gave Harry a look of incredulity, as did the squad flanking him, but only a slow, haughty look spread across the boy's face.

"Oops. You startled me," he deadpanned.

Albus swallowed.

:::

**A/N: **I had fun writing this chapter and I've finally figured out how this is going to go. That means I'll be updating more often. Maybe if I got more reviews I'd update more often. I always like constructive criticism and encouragement.

By the way, if you've read Inside My Mind, I'd like you to go over to **Couture Girl**'s profile and vote for my story in her contest. It'd mean a lot to me. Hell, it means a lot to me to be nominated as my story has been nominated along with the great Aisling Siobhan's Butterfly.


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